Where We End
by Benibara Hirano
Summary: Hitomi was a lot of things. Intelligent. Arrogant. Possibly psychotic. Possibly bipolar. Somehow bullshitting through the Ninja Academy with flying colors and ending up on a mission with Hatake Kakashi does not, by all means, solve any matters. If anything, she wants to wring his neck and leave him to the crows. Unfortunately, Konoha frowns upon the mutilation of a teammate's body.
1. Prologue

Of all things, I woke up in a river.

Even stranger, I was one hundred percent certain that I had just died. Not that I could remember how exactly I'd perished, but I really couldn't care less at the moment. I was wet, I was cold, and I was naturally inclined to feel irritated. You'd feel so too if you died and woke up in a random body of water.

With a surge of unreasonable anger, I hauled myself to my feet and glared - at the black water, at the cool mist, at the dark sky, at my ridiculously thin sundress which seemed grossly out of place in such a gloomy setting.

I was in the process of pondering the merits of throwing a tantrum in the middle of a river when a detached voice carried over to where I was standing, rigid and undeniably annoyed.

"Your rash behavior makes one wonder if you were the right choice, child."

It was with no little pride that I managed not to shriek and sound like a silly little girl, instead turning my head ever so slightly in the direction of the voice. The mist parted ever so slightly, the sight of sand (and further on, greenery) greeting me, bathed in shadows.

A small movement had me walking toward it, steps measured and eyes straining to catch a glimpse of any form of life other than myself. One would think to run away from a mysterious voice drifting from a shady island, but apparently I wasn't quite right in the head and so I found myself stepping onto shore, scanning the area.

"At least you possess admirable self-control," the voice mused, and at last I was privy to who or what was speaking.

A tiger.

A _white_ tiger.

I stared unabashedly.

The animal was sitting primly atop a large boulder, tail curled neatly around its paws, its eyes fragments of glacial eyes that studied me with little interest. A massive creature, it was easily twice my size in length and its paw was roughly the size of my head. And though it was lounging with an air of calmness, I knew instantly that this massive tiger could lash out and maim me in the blink of an eye.

It was intimidating.

"Is this what happens when you die?" I asked, lifting my chin. I might be wary, but I wasn't about to advertise it. Predatory animals had a tendency of attacking creatures they knew to be weaker than them, and fear was a sign of weakness in the animal world. "End up in a river, wake up to a talking animal?"

Its tail twitched. "Impertinent," it said dryly. "I suppose it's better than a hysterical meltdown. Very well." It might have been the moonlight, but I thought its eyes flashed briefly. "You are, as you suspected, dead. And for some reason, you have been selected to enter my domain for me to offer you a choice."

"And this choice is...?"

The tiger might have been amused. "Straight to the point, aren't you? Before I offer you this choice, I will clarify a few things." With one massive paw, it gestured to the deathly quiet scene around us. "You awoke in the river. That river is one branch of a massive system in which the souls of the dead are swept to the true afterlife. Few are sorted here."

I glanced around. "Looks fun."

"Silent. To answer your prior statement, no - not all who make it here see the river as you do. Some see a waterfall; others an ocean; others a lake; most often though, they see the place they remember fondly. A mall. An amusement park. Their bedroom. Their school. It varies."

There was no point resisting the sneer that crossed my face. "School?"

"Humans are all different," the tiger reproached. "It would serve you well to respect the differences of the living... and the dead, I suppose. Continuing on: seeing as you see the in-between as it is, you are rather unusual. This tells me that you had no love for your previous world."

I didn't bother denying it. Fact was, even if I couldn't remember my own name, I knew with unerring certainty that I had _despised_ my world. Being dead was peaceful in comparison.

The tiger sighed softly. "You," it said, "are a difficult creature. However, it is my job to pass the choice on to those they have deemed worthy, and so I shall." There was a momentary pause as it gazed down at me solemnly. "Do you wish to live?"

"No." The answer surprised even me in its swiftness.

"Are you sure? Your choice is to either be born into a different world, a different body, and live - or to move onto the land of the dead and become naught more than a whisper in the midst of countless other spirits."

I crossed my arms. "Death is surprisingly pleasant thus far. No need to live again and suffer."

"Ah, but will your boredom say otherwise after the first few millennia?"

Millennia. _Millennia_.

"Your choice," the tiger said, "is evident. Before you pass on, I will attempt to sway you a last time; this new world you could enter is full of brutality, corruption, and powers you cannot imagine. Only the strongest survive. I have sensed a thread of savagery within you - I am without doubt that you will do well there."

Despite myself, I was intrigued. "Power... survival of the fittest, huh? Alright, why not."

I did not know that tigers could smile. It was full of sharp teeth and not very reassuring. "Excellent," it rumbled, and then the mist was closing around us. "I knew you'd choose well."

And then I was falling into a chasm I had not been aware of -


	2. Chapter 1: Of New Beginnings

**Chapter 1**

**Of New Beginnings **

* * *

"… definite concussion… broken ribs…."

"….wake up? Been a week… like she doesn't… to get up…."

The hushed, solemn voices halted abruptly as I groaned, feeling like a giant bruise, and opened my eyes, blinking blearily in the bright light. It took a moment to assess the situation, and when that moment passed, I was not happy.

Why the hell was I in a hospital?

"She's awake… seems to be fine," a low voice murmured, and I shifted my eyes to the left, silently staring at a tall brown-haired man whose face looked much older than it ought to be. He stared right back at me, pocketing wire-framed glasses in the breast pocket of a distinct white lab coat. Doctor, then.

A shift to the right caught my attention, and my eyes slid over to see an admittedly plain blonde woman smiling reassuringly at me. "How're you feeling, dear?"

_Fucking wonderful_, I wanted to snap, _I apparently have a concussion and broken ribs, I must be just fucking dandy._ Sadly enough, I could not utter the words.

And not for lack of trying either, mind you. When I opened my mouth to answer, I was horrified to realize that the strange and highly irritating screeches were coming from me. Tears welled up in my eyes and I decided that being dead must be better than this mockery of crying.

I think they knocked me out, because when I came to again only the tall brunet remained, examining a pile of papers while sitting languidly in a plastic chair that must not have been comfortable, at all. The minute I blinked, he looked up, dark brown eyes catching my own. "Ah," he said, "you're awake. We thought we gave you another concussion."

Judging by the throbbing headache I was feeling all too clearly, that might not have been too exaggerated.

"Sorry about that, by the way," he said, not sounding very sorry. If he was a doctor – which he obviously was – his bedside manners left little to be desired. The man stood and tossed his pile of papers into a large folder, and stretched. "Masaru is Hikari's apprentice, you'll have to forgive him – I'm sure he didn't mean to knock you out with lamp."

A lamp. Seriously. Bedside manners.

I stared at him flatly. He got the message.

Striding to the window, he threw it open and turned to eye me thoughtfully. "Do you remember anything?" he asked.

A talking white tiger and being dead stood out, but I wasn't that stupid, so I kept my mouth shut and shook my head. It was true, in a way – I knew nothing about the world I had been thrown into, and until I had a few concrete facts to work off of I wasn't saying shit.

"Only to be expected," the man sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "I'm Yamane Kazuo, but you can call me Yamane-san. You were travelling with your parents on a trading trip to Kusagakure, but on the way back bandits ambushed the caravan and your parents died. At least," he said, "that's what we believe. We're not sure about the identity of your parents, and seeing as you've lost your memories with that nasty concussion, it's not likely we'll ever know. The bodies were… brutalized beyond recognition. It's a miracle you survived, but then again, we found you under a thick set of bushes."

I did my best to look stricken, but I don't think I pulled it off very well because he slumped against the wall and sighed. "Look, it's fine if you can't remember them – that was a harsh blow to the head, I'm surprised you can still understand us. Don't force yourself to grieve what you can't remember."

Crappy doctor, I decided, watching him scribble something on a sheet of paper, but my type of doctor. Didn't spew faux-sugary words of comfort and wisdom that fell flat, this one. I could work with him.

Yamane looked at me, pen halting in its movements. "Do you at least remember your name?" He gestured to the paper he was filling out. "That would be so much more convenient than writing Patient 281 repeatedly."

Obviously I didn't know the name of this body, and seeing as I couldn't recall my name from the previous life it didn't exactly work out either. But from what I could gather, this was a Japanese-speaking world, so I scrambled for a female Japanese name and –

"Honda," I blurted, voice raspy from disuse, "My name's Honda."

I felt like slapping myself. Seriously? I named myself after an automobile company? It didn't really matter that it was the first thing that popped to mind in my desperate attempts to find a suitably Japanese name, this was just _stupid_. And humiliating. Hell, was Honda even feminine?

Then I realized that in my previous life, I had owned a Honda motorcycle. Oh irony.

"Honda, huh…." Yamane tested the name on his tongue. "Alright, Honda, I'll be blunt with you. You're going to be sent to the orphanage until this mess is sorted out, after you've fully recovered of course. Do you know how old you are?"

I looked down at my body. "Three?"

"Close. We've determined that you're five years old." Yamane looked me over, brows furrowing slightly and he walked forward, placing the folder on the bedside table. "… Masaru really did a number on you with that lamp, didn't he?"

His hands were surprisingly gentle, at odds with his blunt personality, but I still winced when they brushed over a bump on the back of my head. Still dazed and befuddled, I had failed to realize that I didn't escape unscathed after the lamp incident.

"Hold still," the man said, and before I could retort a warm glow lit up his hand. I only caught a glimpse of light green before it disappeared from my line of sight, but I did feel his hand on the giant bump, and the pain that lessened with every passing second.

Yamane drew away, looking vaguely satisfied. "Well, we've got that out of the way. Honda-kun, I hope you don't mind hospital food, because you're going to be here a while."

Actually, I did mind, but he was already walking out the door, and I was slipping off into slumber.

* * *

Then I opened my eyes.

This, I thought dryly, was most definitely not the hospital.

Instead of the clean and incredibly boring white walls, potted plants in the corners, and the plain cot I'd been resting on, I was standing in the middle of what seemed like a massive ocean that spread for miles and miles, not a single body of land in sight. Even stranger, I was somehow standing on top of the water without a single hint of falling through the surface.

"Honda?"

Sure enough, when I glanced back over my shoulder, the white tiger from before was staring at me, tail flicking idly now and then. It was sitting neatly on top of the water too.

"First thing that came to mind," I replied, distracted by the sudden wave of relief that crashed over me like a tidal wave. In this strange setting, I no longer possessed the pudgy body of a five year old – rather, I had my old body back. Ah, to be twenty again.

The tiger made a small noise of amusement. "Your precious motorcycle was a Honda."

"Oh, do shut up." I examined my hands, wishing I had a mirror to see my face. "I had to think quickly, find a Japanese name and not attract any suspicion. It would've been much appreciated to warn me beforehand exactly where I was going, though, so no thanks to you."

"A valid point," the tiger relented, tail swishing lazily. "As an apology, you'll find yourself with another name when you awake. Do you have any preferences?"

"For a name?"

"Yes."

I decided not to question a tiger's ability to snatch back words already uttered, in the realm of the living no less, and shrugged. "If you weren't aware of this before, I'm not Japanese, and I took French in school. How am I supposed to know any Japanese names?"

"True," it said. "Then you won't mind terribly if I come up with something."

It wasn't much of a question. I shrugged. "As long as it's not ridiculous, I'm fine with it. Now, I need some answers."

"Introductions are in order, no?" It dawned on me that the tiger had just ignored me. "Beings such as I don't much care for names, but I suppose this is a necessity for you. You may call me Shiroi."

Shiroi. It suited her… her?

"Yes, child, I am female. Do hurry up."

Bristling, I snapped, "Now that we're done with the pleasantries, answer some damned questions, yeah? What world is this? And what did that doctor, the Yamane guy do?"

Shiroi pondered the barrage of questions with a vague air that implied that she wasn't too impressed with my lack of finesse. At the moment, I couldn't care less. "Have you ever heard of Naruto?"

Naruto. Naruto?

"Some Japanese comic?" I vaguely remembered a close friend in my past life gushing about it. "Um… something with a… fox, ramen, and…." What else? A thorough racking through my brain provided no more than what I'd already said. "I don't know. What is it?"

Shiroi was staring at me in that unnerving manner of hers. "The more you talk, the more I doubt the wisdom of sending you to this world." She sighed. "Naruto, as you've said, is a popular Japanese manga series in your world. It revolves around ninjas with extraordinary abilities and fantastical beasts called the bijuu, or the tailed beasts."

"So where does the ramen kick in?"

"We shall touch upon that much later," she replied curtly. "At the moment though, you are a five year old girl born to a pair of civilians, yet strangely possesses a great deal of chakra. You will be enrolled in the Ninja Academy and learn how to be a kunoichi, or a female ninja."

"Chakra?" I hated feeling stupid.

The tigress brought up one massive paw and studied it blandly. "Natural energy that courses through all living creatures that ninjas have put to great use – it is the basis of their abilities."

"That's great and all, really," I interrupted. "But that means I get to fight, right?"

She raised her great blue eyes to mine. "… Yes."

Though I had no mirror, I could tell that the grin that snaked across my face was as evil as it could get. "Excellent."


	3. Chapter 2: Hospital Days

**Chapter 2**

**Hospital Days**

* * *

Several things happened once I slipped back into the world of the living.

For one, as Yamane kindly informed me, they had discovered the proper papers for my identification. Apparently my name was not Honda - not really, anyway. That was my family name. The papers claimed that my _full_ name was in fact Honda Hitomi. I was born on September eighteenth and was four year old, soon to be five, and I was the only daughter of a merchant couple. I briefly marveled at Shiroi's ability to manipulate factors in the real world from her snug place within my head.

_**You may thank me later**_, she'd yawned, waving me away as she curled up for a nap. Our strange connection worked both ways, apparently: I could dismiss the endless ocean scenery, or she could. Which led me to my suspicion that the white tigress was not, in fact, my mind-child – rather, I wondered if she had a physical body of her own somewhere. Once I'd tried to call her in for idle conversation, bored out of my mind while trapped in the hospital, and I'd managed to catch a glimmer of consciousness from her end before something pushed me out. I'd ended up with one hell of a headache at the force of it but it was somewhat educational. It also made it much more fascinating to think that she'd somehow created a genuine backstory for me.

As for the hospital… I hated it. I usually didn't have anything against them, being apathetic to the needles and sharp shiny tools and all, but being cooped up in one was driving me nuts. I needed to _move_, be active, but the doctors said otherwise. The wounds that this body had suffered from the bandit ambush had healed up nicely and yet I was held back for fear of my mental stability. The hell. Going along with my cover, if I had amnesia like I did there was a less than twenty percent chance that I would be able to recall my life. Well, this body's life, really.

Thing was, a few things slipped through the amnesia. I had vague recollections of a decently attractive woman singing, a white dog sniffing through a flower field, and a darkened ceiling with shouts that echoed through the place. The last bit puzzled me quite a bit until Shiroi took the time to explain to me that it was the memory of a little girl hearing her parents fighting, screaming and throwing things. After that, a few more images trickled through the mind block. A stocky tanned man with thin brown hair and bitter black eyes downing one bottle after another. The same man snarling at the woman from before, alcohol gripped in one hand, and the woman gazing blankly at the wall.

The memories made my heart clench and the more I reflected on them, the more I felt the white flash of fury clawing up my throat. No child should ever witness her parents, her anchors and support, openly detest each other like that. The woman never fought back, sure, but it was hard to miss the icy glint in her eyes whenever she looked at her husband. It may be terrible of me to say this, but I was glad they were dead.

Shiroi had just looked at me with those all-seeing blue orbs of hers before padding away and disappearing into the mist, steps heavier than usual. I'd recognized a few emotions behind that gaze, regret standing out the most.

I despised that look, hated it, because that's how the adults in my old world would look at me after my mother walked out of my life. Really, you'd think switching worlds and bodies would allow you to have a better chance at a loving family. Was that too much to ask for? It left a sour taste in my mouth.

So I did my best not to think about it too much, focused on other things, like how much I wanted to get the hell out of the hospital room they 'd shut me up in. That little window did not help any matters, teasing me with a glimpse of a summer sky, with the occasional soothing breeze blowing in. Wandering the halls of the hospital only entertained you for so long.

Then I decided that I _was_ going to escape.

* * *

Peering around the corner, I hugged the wall and counted to ten before I straightened and stepped out confidently from the alley behind the hospital. I needed to blend in, not look like an escapee from the hospital – which I was, but they didn't have to know that – and to do so, I needed to be confident. I had to seem like I was sure of where I was going, what I was doing, whatever. The second time I'd run away from the clutches of those evil doctors I'd been caught in five minutes because one old lady had noticed me scuttling about in the shadows like a frightened stray and had called the cops. Fucking Uchihas had hauled me back and I had been deposited unceremoniously in my cot, sweating under Yamane's unimpressed stare.

Ah, Yamane. The guy was a riot. I really did enjoy making his life that much more difficult.

After my first escape, in which I'd been whisked back in record time (really, what was I thinking, wearing a _hospital gown_ out in public?), he'd stared at me flatly and pointed to his very brown hair.

"You see this?" he'd asked.

I'd looked from his hair to his eyes again. "Your hair?"

"Correct. And how old do you think I am?"

I'd looked him over shrewdly. "… Forty?"

It was rather surprising how his facial expressions, usually so bland and apathetic, could manage such an irritated glare. "For your information, I'm thirty-six. And if you keep complaining and trying to break out, I'll be graying before my time."

Unfortunately for him, that had only served to fuel my desire to get out. After my seventh escape he'd shown me a tiny white hair nestled among chocolate locks, disgruntled.

This was my twenty-eighth time, and so far so good; the clothes I'd bribed and blackmailed off of fellow patient Endo Takumi had proven to be a great asset. I'd make it up to him with a bar of chocolate if I could find one.

It wasn't my first time strolling through the village, which Shiroi and the doctors had told me was called Konohagakure. Konoha was a ninja village, probably the strongest, and it was also the first of its kind, founded by the two clans of Uchiha and Senju. I was well-acquainted with the Uchiha police force, since they were the ones to drag me kicking and screaming back to my prison cell. There was only one of them I could call my friend, Isamu, and that was because he'd gained my respect and undying love for slipping me a small bag of candies while shoving me back to my room.

The villagers waved at me as I walked by, exchanging secretive smiles as I did – they were my allies, the civilians against the almighty ninja police force. More often than not they helped smuggle me into one of their shops and fed me, offering tips of how to give those damned Uchihas the slip, asking about my health, et cetera, et cetera. I had apparently endeared myself to the women in particular, who fussed over me and cooed about how _brave_ I was for being so strong after my parents' deaths. And no matter how many times I pointed out that I did not, in fact, remember the people who created me, they refused to listen. Stubborn, they were.

I was snacking on a dango stick, enjoying the late autumn breeze, when I accidentally knocked into someone. With a hiss, I rubbed my wrist, which had taken the brunt of the fall, and looked up straight into a pair of startlingly blue eyes under a head full of obnoxious golden hair.

The man blinked before smiling apologetically and offered me a hand. "I'm sorry, are you alright? I wasn't looking where I was going."

He sounded sincere. I inspected his hand, glanced back at his patiently smiling face, and was just reaching for it when I heard an all too familiar voice shout from somewhere behind me. It sounded vaguely like "GETHERDAMMIT" but I couldn't be too sure, since I jumped up and started running like a lunatic high on drugs, breezing past the startled man. Pity really, I would have liked to get to know him better (and possibly worm some food out of him).

For the next half hour or so I wove in and out of buildings, guided and covered by the shopkeepers, egged on by the kids, giving the Uchiha police a serious workout. It was just my luck that Isamu wasn't one of the shinobi chasing after me, he at least knew how to laugh. But of course not – this time my pursuers consisted of three men, led by Uchiha Minoru, who had a certain gleam in his eyes that made me uneasy. He'd never quite forgiven me for stealing his lunch off his desk.

My stamina was dropping and when I looked over my shoulder, Minoru was lunging for me. With a shriek I swerved and rammed into a solid figure, flopping onto my rear end unceremoniously.

"Namikaze-san," Minoru said blandly. "Good day. I apologize for her rudeness."

The man – Namikaze, apparently – flashed him a polite smile and focused on me. "Hello again, we really should stop meeting like this, no?"

"It's not my fault," I said immediately. Oh, I could just _feel_ Minoru rolling his eyes. Then again, maybe not; Uchihas aren't supposed to show a speck of emotion other than frowning, scowling, glaring, looking irritated, smirking, or a general mix of them all.

But I've been told I'm ridiculously infuriating, so perhaps it was possible for an Uchiha to lose his composure around me. I was flattered at the thought.

Namikaze smiled more genuinely and crouched down to my level, offering me a hand. "You ran off before I could help you up before," he said, and waited for me to react.

I inspected him. He was good looking, I supposed, but for the life of me I couldn't help but think: _pretty boy._ Hey, sue me, but that was my first impression of him. It didn't help that while I was squinting at him like one might a criminal, he just crouched and smiled.

Deeming him a decent enough person, I took the offered hand and dusted myself off once I was back on my own two feet. Carefully not looking anywhere near the Uchiha looming behind me, I crossed my arms and looked the blond in the eye. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'm Minato, Namikaze Minato." He didn't look at the Uchiha as he spoke, but he was a ninja – that flak jacket and forehead protector said it all – and he was probably aware of every tiny movement Minoru made.

For some reason, abovementioned Uchiha hadn't grabbed me yet, so this Namikaze guy probably was powerful or had connections to those in power. "I'm Hitomi," I told him.

"What, no family name?"

"Orphan," I shrugged. "Amnesia, don't remember much before the incident." I wasn't going to tell this guy that all I did remember was of an unhappy household with serious issues. That shit was personal, and better left forgotten.

On the other hand, Namikaze looked stricken. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." It was still nice how he left it at that, unlike everyone else I'd met so far, who'd gushed and fretted over me sickeningly. Hell, even some of the Uchihas had let me off the hook the first five times before they realized I wasn't bothered in the slightest (thank you, amnesia).

"Her name is Honda Hitomi," Minoru said suddenly. I jumped and scurried behind the blond ninja. "Her papers were recovered, she just can't remember much from her life before the accident."

I gave him the stink eye, which he returned with a disdainful sneer, and then a pair of very blue eyes were peering down at me. "Honda?"

"I don't like it," I said firmly. "I'm just Hitomi."

He looked faintly amused, but tactfully refrained from commenting.

Minoru heaved a sigh and stepped closer. "Namikaze-san, it was a… pleasure, but I'm afraid I must take _Honda_ back to the hospital now." He muttered something that sounded like _"again"_ but I couldn't be sure.

Namikaze Minato raised a brow. "Hospital?"

"This is her thirtieth escape."

"Twenty-eighth," I corrected.

Minoru ignored me. "Well, good day, Namikaze-san," he said and reached for me. I scowled.

"Is her condition severe?"

Namikaze, I thought fervently, was a godsend. His question had sufficiently distracted the Uchiha for a critical second and I was running like a madwoman, diving into a clothes shop and escaping out the back door.

Maybe I wouldn't beg food off of him after all. If I ever saw him again, that was.

Maybe.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, you wonderful people. It's been a while, huh... Well, I figured I ought to publish _something_, and since I'd written half of this chapter like a month ago I thought I'd just finish it and update. Yup. I'm a smart girl.**

**Well, you know what to do... review, follow, favorite, that'd be much appreciated. Mhmmm.**

**Does anyone have a cookie? I crave cookies. And gummy bears. But not together.**

**Oh, and just wondering, does anyone even look at my profile? I'd love some thoughts on my possible future stories, guys, shooting me a PM would make my day. :D**

**M'kay, I'm done here, peace out yo,**

**-Beni**


End file.
